Page 1 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
Prologue
The marks humans leave
are too often scars.
John Green
Twenty Years Old
There’s an eerie stillness to Uncle Luca’s mansion as I wander aimlessly through it. He and my brother Ranieri passed out hours ago, and at three in the morning, I should be asleep, too. But whenever I try, I can’t seem to shut out the sound of my own thoughts.
Four days have passed since Dad green lit a hit on Vincent Romano. Four days have passed since our Andretti soldiers failed. And four days have passed in utter silence, the alarming tranquility not unlike the calm before a storm.
When I turn a corner where Giovanni, one of Uncle Luca’s guards, should be stationed, I frown at the empty corridor. Gio isn’t the most vigilant of our guards, but he knows not to abandon his post, especially not in the wake of a failure this monumental.
Unease seeps into my skin, trickling up and down my spine until I have my gun drawn and eyes alert. I curse myself for leaving my phone in the guest room. This could be nothing, but I’m not about to take any chances with Ranie’s life. And if something happens, there will be no way to alert him.
For the first time in twenty years of privileged living, I’m angered by the size of Uncle Luca’s place. Two days ago, Dad moved me and Ranie here because the smaller size is easier to fortify than our estate, but it’s still an absurdly large monstrosity of marble and gold.
I’ve never complained about it before, but as I slowly make my way towards Ranie’s room on the opposite side of the Floridian compound, I can’t help but curse the distance. My foot slips past the marbled floor, my socked feet silent after years of training. I stay close to the wall, clearing each corridor I pass, each lonely step more urgent than the last.
I should have passed at least eight guards by now, but I haven’t. Whatever threat is here, looming over us, is ghostly, made far more mysterious by the unknown. And it is unknown. We still don’t know how the Hell the Romano’s head of enforcement is alive.
Vincent Romano should be dead. We planned it to a tee. We accounted for all foreseeable variables. Something went wrong, and while we’re scrambling to figure out what, everything is silent on the Romano side.
That’s almost worse than an all-out declaration of war.
At twenty years old, I’m supposed to take over the Andretti family in the decade to come. I’ve been trained to handle a gun. I’ve been trained to strategize a turf war. I’ve been trained to plan a hit. I’ve been trained to run a mafia empire.
But this? Waiting idly? I’m not trained for this. Everything in me is anticipating action, stir crazy at the thought of being cooped up in this gilded prison for a second longer. I’m almost grateful for the idea of an impending threat, as long as Ranie isn’t the one being threatened.
The restlessness feels weird beside the tension in my body as I clear each hall and room. It’s the last hallway leading to Ranie’s room that has goosebumps rising out of my tanned flesh. Trusting my body’s reaction, I stop, pausing behind the bend and extending my hearing as far as it can go.
The silence is there, but in a half beat of a second, I hear the softest of sounds. A slight scuffle that shouldn’t be here. And in this world, anything unusual is not to be trusted. That sound, that barest hint of exposure might as well be a slew of war cries.
Someone is going to die tonight, and I’ll be damned if it’s me or Ranieri.
Chapter One
A quick temper will make
a fool of you soon enough.
Bruce Lee
Seven years later….
Lucy is laughing at me.
Why? I don’t know, but I do know that Lucy and laughing are never good things—both separately and together. I’ve only met her once, but I’m pretty sure she’s a nutcase, and I’m also pretty sure bad news stalks her like Norman Bates does his mother.
The last time I saw Lucy, I helped her fake fiancé kill nineteen well-armed men, aided in the takedown of a high-ranking board member for a Fortune 500 company, and had to lay low in the fucking boonies for a month.
I just got back from Nowhere, Oklahoma—seriously, that’s what it’s called. And I don’t want to have to go back to Nowhere.
Now, Lucy is standing in my living room, uninvited and unannounced. It’s kind of like last time, except Asher isn’t with her. Speaking of that dumbass, he wants to marry her for real. So, why is his girl standing in my living room?
And how the fuck does she know where I live?
Last time she was here, I was sure to take precautions to prevent this very situation. I stuck her in a box, and when it was time to move her again, I had one of my men drive us around aimlessly for half an hour.
